


I want the ocean right now

by feyrelay



Series: Wine, Tango, Fuck You Marvel (aka Everything Was Fluffy and Nothing Hurt) [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Breeding, Consensual Cuckolding Kink, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Married Couple, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrelay/pseuds/feyrelay
Summary: You could have more than one first love, if they happened at the same time.





	1. Peter POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theMadStarker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMadStarker/gifts).



> There is no underage in this, though there are mentions of Peter and Ned having messed around in the past when they were both sixteen. (Peter and Ned are in their twenties here.)
> 
> And this fic also has a playlist, listen here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7uzHeNjKOmwLwvG1gaiO0m?si=bQJPVi3pSme_JDreApJYdg

There are few things Peter loves more than making Tony take him to see superhero movies. The juxtaposition just gets to him, right in his zillennial funny bone, and it _delights_ the children that come with their parents to the same theater. Children from three to thirteen crowd around, some calling for Iron Man, some calling for Tony Stark, and all of them with the same, unselfish joy in their eyes.

Tony gets this small, secret smile when that happens. He often gets more information from the children’s parents, finds out what he can do to help, whether the children have robotics labs at their middle school yet or if they’ve found a surgeon for top surgery yet or whether they, as parents, have any suggestions for his new software project -- it’s a double-blind social media trawler that both respects individual privacy laws and weeds out cyberbullies, etc etc.

Peter, now in his twenties, loves to watch Tony work the line at the concession stand like it’s the Met Gala.

They talk about it sometimes afterward, after Peter has explained in rambling, excited detail all the subtext of the movie, and the cinematic parallels to Tony’s favorite ‘films of yesteryear’, and managed to make Tony’s mouth twist in good humor and self-deprecation at that, the sparkle of his eyes catching the silver in his hair-

And, _oh_ , how Peter gets distracted, not remembering what subject he wanted to broach until after he’s reminded Tony that Iron Man is still his favorite hero and the Peter is very, _very_ grateful to have him. (Somehow, he doesn’t think Tony minds.)

But eventually, yes, they do talk about it.

Tony wants kids. Peter is aware. He has known this, almost since the beginning. And it’s not that Peter _doesn’t_. He does, maybe. He’s just scared.

Like many of his other fears, though, Peter intends to conquer this one. For instance, he’d been afraid, at first, of getting fucked. It’s not that he thought Tony would hurt him -- far from it -- but actually he was afraid he’d love it too much.  At that point, Peter had been nineteen and gagging for it, and he had been afraid that he’d get too into it and accidentally hurt Tony. He had already seen the older man’s gorgeously thick cock several times, had felt its girth in his eager throat and Peter had been afraid he’d come on it and tighten his muscles and clamp down too hard with his super-strength.

The solution? Tony had Peter top him, taught him how to do it with Tony grinding in the younger man’s lap, Peter panting against his throat as Tony petted at Peter’s nape and down to his hole, everything awash in a litany of murmured praises. Together, they built up Peter’s stamina and confidence in tandem. Tony taught him control and gentleness and how to metabolize pleasure.

And it’s a damn good thing, because Peter loves coming on Tony’s cock now.

They’ve learned so much about each other in the past three years. Tony knows that Peter needs praise and firm instruction. Peter knows Tony needs explicit consent followed by free reign. They discover more specific kinks along the way.

And, still, after years of enjoying each other, there are plenty left to explore.

\---

So, anyway, it’s another superhero movie premiere, Wonder Woman 4 this time. Ned comes with them.

It’s been a fantastic day already, a warm Saturday with Peter and his best friend catching up. Ned’s life has changed almost as much as Peter’s has; he’s a successful businessman, having invented a service that leverages cost-sharing amongst both its one-time customers and regular subscribers to retain a legal team working in a standardized, streamlined process, in addition to an AI team spider-searching the internet. Together, the two halves of the business work on behalf of Ned’s clients to erase their embarrassments from the internet, and cost-sharing keeps the price down to something your average citizen can afford.

The college graduation present of choice is no longer a car or an apartment-warming gift, but a fresh start. Public shaming culture and social media antis are both dropping like flies.

It’s been a fresh start for Ned, too, and he’s more confident, more genuine. He’s still the same dorky dude underneath, though, and Peter has fun re-connecting with him as they wander around the city before meeting up with Tony for dinner, ahead of the fancy premiere.

Ned makes an off-hand comment about hoping to see Gal Gadot there, and that he might chat her up. Peter’s bisexual ass agrees, and Ned’s elbow in his side has Peter nodding vigorously. Tony favors them both with a gently amused smile, stating loftily, “Isn’t she married, now?”

Ned shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t care, because I do. But if this is just a fantasy, well… gosh, maybe she and her husband would be into it? Like-” he drops his voice low in deference to their setting, “... maybe a cuckolding thing?”

Peter snorts into his glass, ready to share a disbelieving eyeroll with Tony, but when he looks to his lover, he finds Tony making a choking noise into his cloth napkin, eyes wide.

His first thought is poison, that someone is targeting them, so he takes a deep inhale with closed eyes, calling on his extraordinary senses to give him the information he needs to help Tony. He sorts through the scents of the restaurant, mentally, and leans in close to his partner.

All he smells is heady arousal.

(Oh.)

 _Ohhhh,_  Peter thinks, sneaking a glance to Ned, who is watching them. To cover the moment, he says the first thing he can think of. “Wait, what? I thought people who were into that were mostly wanting to be the ones watching, hands off. You want to be the…” and Peter flounders for a word. ‘Third wheel’ sounds mean, and he knows how Ned feels about that concept, anyway. (Some hang-ups never heal completely.)

“Supplanter,” Tony artfully supplies, recovered.

His voice is low, too, matching Ned's tone. Peter feels a bit like their entertainment for the evening has already started, that they're _in_ a movie right now. Stuff like this doesn't happen in real life, right?

\---

They all end up loose and excited when they finally get back to Peter and Tony’s penthouse. Despite the long runtime of the movie, it had a breakneck pace from start to finish. Tony, maybe, could have done with a shorter movie, Peter thinks privately. He knows Tony tends to figure out what’s going to happen within the first ten minutes or so. He doesn’t seem tired, though. He seems anticipatory, instead.

(Or maybe Peter’s just projecting.)

“I really like how they still keep Diana herself, underneath it all, even so many movies later,” Ned is saying animatedly. Tony is nodding back, negroni at his lips and tie undone.

Peter comes back with a plate of cheese and crackers, setting it in front of two of his favorite people before stealing a few crackers for himself. “I liked the callback to the first one, when she got all excited over seeing the baby.”

“Yeah!” Ned agrees enthusiastically, taking another sip of his drink. “I like that she’s a total badass but that the movie still feels comfortable with her being excited about traditionally feminine things.”

“Hey, thinking babies are cute is not _just_ a feminine thing,” Peter returns, ribbing him good-naturedly. He means it to be light, to diffuse some of the steadily-building tension.

Instead, the feeling balloons like blown-glass, widening and rounding like Ned’s eyes as he considers Peter from scarcely two feet away, the pair of them sitting together on the sofa as Tony holds court from his armchair. Peter waits for the moment to shatter.

Ned finally says, tentative, “Do you think you two will ever… you know?”

Peter looks past Ned’s open face to see how Tony is taking this. “Maybe,” he replies, careful. “I mean, we’d have to adopt, obviously.”

Ned nods frantically, saying, “Of course, of course,” but Tony is chewing at his lip, dark eyes locked on Peter’s. Peter watches as his husband takes another slow sip of his drink, ice clinking. The answering shiver goes through Peter’s own body, and he knows Tony is about to speak.

“Such a shame, isn’t it Ned? Pete would look so _pretty_ knocked up.”

Peter snaps his gaze back to his best friend, who seems neither shocked nor unaffected. Trust Ned to take it all in stride. He nods, as Peter watches.

This amuses Peter, so he decides to ask, “Do you agree? Do you think I’d look… pretty?”

Before Ned can answer, Tony lets out a great, shuddering breath and stands, leaving the dregs of his drink on the bar cart. Peter frowns, but doesn’t have time to protest before Tony is tossing a, “Have fun; I’ll be in the shower,” over his shoulder.

Peter's own displeasure is mirrored in Ned’s face. He had thought they were all on the same page.

“What the hell was that?” Ned asks softly. “Doesn’t he know a set up when he sees one?”

“Usually,” Peter says with a shrug. “We haven’t talked about _this_ before, though.”

Ned’s grip is firm on his elbow, suddenly. “Tell me that’s not true,” he groans.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Ned echoes. “The whole ‘supplanter’ thing? I thought that was all part of a plan?”

“A plan for what?”

Ned looks at Peter like he’s lost his mind. “A plan for Tony to play out his cuckolding kink?”

Peter sucks in a breath, realizing just how little he really knows about how this is all supposed to go. “I, uh. I kind of thought it was about me getting impregnated? Is that the same thing?”

Ned promptly drags him from the room, toward the bedroom.


	2. Tony POV

By the time Tony gets out of the shower, he’s expecting to either have a bedful of sad Peter, having bid Ned a hasty, apologetic good night after Tony’s little tantrum. A small, traitorous part of his brain also possibly expects that he’ll encounter a note saying Peter’s gone home with Ned, having finally realized that Tony is far too old for him.

He doesn’t expect them to be there, in bed. Both of them.

They’re not fucking, but Ned _does_ have Peter -- fully-clothed still -- over his knee. Tony stops short, belting his bathrobe, and tries to make sense of the scene.

“Say it,” Ned demands, hand raised above Peter’s backside threateningly.

“I will not attempt to engage in kink without discussing it with my partner,” Peter grits out, before Ned strikes him.

“Damn right, you won’t,” Ned mutters, and the whole thing tickles at that secret, evil, coulda-gone-supervillain part of Tony’s brain.

“It doesn’t hurt; he’s acting,” he pipes up helpfully.

“Oh, I know!” Ned says brightly. “Still fun.”

Peter pushes away from Ned and settles on his ass on the carpet. Clearly, it can’t be _that_ tender. “Did someone _ask_ you for your opinion, Tony?”

Tony waves that one away, and re-starts the conversation the way it was meant to go, the way he’d planned it in the shower. “Look, I’m not mad at you two. And I do wanna watch. It’s just hard to give up control after years of being a so-called Master of The Universe.”

Peter snorts. “Who do you think you are, Billy Zane from that really old movie, _Titanic_? Or, like, Rockefeller? MJ would have a shit fit.”

Ned nods, adding, “You don’t have an evil bone in your body, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“And you do?” he returns cattily, to avoid snagging his mind on someone calling him ‘Mr. Stark’ in a semi-sexual context for the first time since Peter was just barely-legal.

“Just the one,” Ned replies, voice arch and triumphant. Peter laughs, and that. That’s what makes this all worth it.

Tony stops trying to do up his bathrobe all the way.

Peter stops pretending that he’s gonna get up off the floor in the next ten minutes.

Ned, for his part, just looks between the two of them with something like surprise. “Really? We’re really doing this?”

Tony holds up his hands, conscious that it makes the robe pull a little. “Hey, _I’m_ not doing anything.”

Peter licks his lips from his spot on the soft, carpeted floor. He looks at Tony, just once, giving him an out it seems. When Tony makes no move to reign him in, he’s not surprised that Peter cuts in with a snarky little comment. “Why don’t you put some underwear on, or something? No one wants to see that.”

Ned breathes out like he’s been punched, leaning forward over his own knees, head dropping so a hand can come up to run through his hair. Peter and Tony share a quick look of amazement, before the older man goes for a pair of boxer-briefs.

Tony knows Peter gets off on the effect he has on others, always has. It’s nearly as effective on the younger man as direct praise. He brushes a hand along Peter’s shoulders as he passes him to settle up at the head of their bed. Tony tilts his head at Ned.

Peter pushes up to his knees, and insinuates himself into Ned’s space, forcing the other man to look up and straighten his posture.

“Clearly my earlier punishment was _not_ super-effective,” Ned says drily, his face inches from Peter’s own.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna let me blow you?” Peter asks, voice pitched low and mock-serious. The two friends share a smile that speaks some language Tony, in the utter isolation of his childhood, never learned to speak.

Ned pretends to think Peter's offer over, an expression that Tony barely catches the corner of from this angle. But, after a single, humming moment, he magnanimously says, “Well. It wouldn’t be fair for me to be punished just because you’re the same little shit you’ve always been, Peter.”

Tony tries not to laugh, he really does, but there’s something bright and happy overlaying this whole thing. He can’t truly get into the idea that Peter isn’t satisfied in their marriage, not after so many years together, but it doesn’t have to feel _real_ to be really, really hot.

It feels good to be around someone who knows Peter as well as he does.

He wonders if Ned knows how to wreck him, too.

Christ, maybe they’ve even done something like this before, back when Peter was in school? That thought alone does something for him, so Tony decides to voice it, interrupting Peter’s attempts to coax Ned into taking off his pants.

The two younger men pause for just a half-second, but Tony notices neither look at him.

A beat, and then, “Did you hear something, Peter?”

And there’s Peter, devilish. As usual. “Sure didn’t.”

(Fuckers.)

\---

Theoretically, this is where he gets to watch Ned gets his dick sucked. At least, that’s what Tony had anticipated.

What happens, instead, is Peter finally brings a little of his super strength to bear and bullies Ned out of his pants. If Tony were the philosophical type, he’d say that’s probably the last ounce of control Peter’s gonna have all night.

Instead of letting Peter get him warmed up, Ned turns the tables and manhandles Peter onto his stomach, with his face buried in Tony’s thigh. Tony’s not mad about it, or anything.

Peter makes an adorable little squawking sound, and says, muffled, “Wait, what are we doing now?”

It takes Tony straight back to when Peter was younger and things were new. He’d been so uncertain, _bless him_. The uncertainty hadn’t lasted, though, not in the face of such overwhelming hidden sluttiness.

He’s snapped out of his meanderings when Ned answers, “You’re getting fucked, is what we’re doing right now.”

“Fair enough,” Peter sighs as he settles, seemingly melting into the bed. Tony knows he needs these little reassurances, every now and then, so he pets at Peter’s soft hair, carding his hand against the younger man’s scalp.

“Does he get to take his clothes off, first?” Tony pipes up, somewhat sardonically.

Ned meets his gaze evenly, and doesn’t flinch. “When I’m ready for him to, yeah. Don’t know how _you_ do things, but I’m gonna make sure he’s begging for it first. Now shut up, _sir_.”

And with that, Ned continues his work, massaging at the roundness of Peter’s ass through the material of his pants. Occasionally, Tony sees a hand sneak up under the back of the shirt Peter is still wearing, to pet at the small of Peter’s back. Mostly, though, Ned seems to be concentrating on turning Peter’s glutes into water.

Peter is making little, tiny noises of appreciation into Tony’s groin. It’s _infuriating_. (He loves it.)

Ned must hear them, too, because he has a shadow of a grin to his mouth just now, as he continues his explanation, “Peter, honey, I’m not letting you take your clothes all the way off, okay? I know you’re probably used to spreading your legs for old men and having to urge them to pick up the pace, but I think you probably can’t wait for me anymore, is that right?”

Peter moans affirmation into Tony’s thigh again, the little bastard.

Ned smirks at Tony, and adds onto his conversation with Peter, “You know I’m gonna take care of you, right? You need it right now?”

“Mmm-hmm, yes please,” Peter mumbles, mouth pressed to the edge of Tony’s underwear. He seems to have very little shame about moaning like a slut into Tony’s crotch while he lets some other man work him over. In fact, it’s as if Tony isn’t even there.

For someone who’s not there, though, Tony’s cock sure is hard.

Ned makes Peter lift his hips just enough to wrestle Peter’s pants and underwear down to his knees. “You’re gonna be so tight like this, with your legs all pressed together, Peter.”

Tony knows that’s true. He’s bottomed himself with his trousers tight around his thighs and he’d nearly lost his mind with how good it was. He’s starting to feel a little… anxious… with how good at this Ned seems to be. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but not this. He’d thought it’d be sweet, like watching two puppies play with each other.

Apparently, Tony had forgotten not everyone is a natural twink like Peter.

He decides to fight back, just a little. “That should help,” he cuts in, voice slightly exaggerated, “... with the whole ‘size’ thing.”

Peter pants a wet laugh right against the damp fabric covering Tony’s erection, and it’s almost enough to make Tony miss Ned’s raised eyebrow. “You mean the Asian thing, fuckin’ racist? Nah. Peter knows what he’s getting himself into, don’t you, Pete?”

In answer, Peter hums and his lips vibrate right against Tony’s dick, and okay. He has to admit, this is okay. It’s not _horrible_ , this situation. He can live with it.

(Although, if they don’t get this show on the road, he might just _die_ from it, instead.)

“You gonna fuck him or not, Leeds?”

Peter slaps him lightly on the balls, and it gives Tony a delicious little shock. “Ned told you to shut up, if I recall correctly.”

“Suck my dick, husband,” he smiles down at Peter, joking, though he’s secretly hoping that Peter might take him up on the offer.

Whatever the younger man’s answer, it’s lost to a choked-off moan as Ned begins with pushing two fingers into Peter with little preamble. Tony can see it from here, but Peter had no warning.

“Christ, you gonna give him back in one piece?” he asks faintly.

Peter slaps at him again, declaring, “I can take it. Feels good.”

Ned looks triumphant as he works his fingers roughly, slick as they are with lube that he must keep on him. “Told you, Stark; shut up and let Peter get what he’s been missing.”

“Such a feisty little boy scout. You fuck a lot of other men’s husbands?”

Ned tilts his head at Tony, but doesn’t hold his gaze as he continues to focus on getting Peter ready with careful, rhythmic movements of his squelching fingers. Peter is making worked-up, breathy sounds into the crease of Tony’s thigh again and it means that Ned’s looking away feels less like a victory and more like Tony’s been dismissed in favor of more interesting things.

Ned answers him, though. “He was mine before he was yours, man.”

Any other time, Tony would have scoffed. That attitude hasn’t exactly been working for him tonight, though. Instead, he measures his words. “Is that so? I guess I thought you were too into that redhead, what was her name? And then the blonde, Betty?”

Peter nearly pops a shoulder out of the socket to peer up at him from an odd angle. “You remember that?”

Tony taps his temple even as he notices Ned add a third finger to test the edge of Peter’s tolerance. “Mind like a steel trap, sweetheart.”

Peter stops straining his neck, pressing his face back down into Tony’s groin, moaning sweetly. “Yeah, one that’s rusted shut, sometimes,” he grumbles.

Tony takes that insult on the chin. And by that, he means that he nods at Ned and says, “Enough prep. Maybe if you make him feel it in the back of his slut mouth, he’ll learn to keep it shut.”

“I don’t work for you,” Ned grits out, but he does withdraw long enough to get his own underwear off, so Tony counts that as a victory.

Or, well. He _would_.

It’d be a lot easier to do so if his husband’s childhood friend wasn’t hung like a fucking fieldmouse. And yes, Tony is aware that that usually means having a small dick, but Bruce had spent a long weekend rambling to Tony about rodents being some of the most ‘gifted’ of all mammals in the cock department, proportionally, and Tony can’t forget it. So, naturally, no one else is allowed to, either.

Regardless, Tony is suddenly worried that that _hadn’t_ been enough prep, for Peter. His hand must tighten a little in Peter’s soft curls, because his husband speaks up.

“Look, don’t be so threatened. Everyone knows I’m with you for the money anyway.”

It startles a laugh out of him, at least; it reminds him fondly that they can joke about those things, now.

“You ready, Peter?” Ned cuts in, teasing a little. Tony straightens up a bit so he can see the head of Ned’s rather impressive dick kiss bluntly at Peter’s hole. It’s exciting for Tony to see things happen from this odd angle, and it sends a sick, voyeuristic thrill up his spine to watch something as large and red as a strawberry come to bear up against where Peter’s barely been prepared.

He didn’t think he was into this, but he really, _really_ is. “No condom?”

(Tony hopes not.)

“Of course not, how else am I gonna knock him up, huh?” Ned replies, before he begins pulling Peter back onto himself.

Peter goes willingly, with a shaky gasp that hangs on to his voice by a thread.

Tony for his part, _throbs_.

(Now there’s an idea.)


	3. Peter POV

Peter’s thoughts are spinning out. He knows how big Ned’s cock is (he’d sucked it enough when they were both sixteen). He knows it’s going to throw Tony for a loop and he _can’t wait._

He knows the moment his husband catches on because Tony’s hand tightens in his hair and oh yeah, _that’s also a thing._ But he pipes up anyway, to do his part for the fantasy that’s currently got him shivering in anticipation. “Look, don’t be so threatened. Everyone knows I’m with you for the money anyway.”

Tony barks a laugh and Peter’s gratified by that. Not as gratified as he is by Ned asking if he’s ready, which sets up that high whine in the back of his throat that possibly is only audible to Peter himself.

It’s a non-issue anyway, because Ned is brushing against him and well. They never did _this_ when they were sixteen. Peter had topped for Ned a few times, following the other boy’s shaky instructions to the best of his ability, with them collapsing like a pair of puppies afterward.

There are some quibbles about condom use happening above his head, but Peter is so over it all. He wants it now. He wants it raw. And he wants it to hurt.

Peter _does_ hear Ned say something about knocking him up, but _that_ delicious thought is lost to the slow, but decisive drag of good dick inside him and Peter gasps his gratitude-

Fucking hell-

He wishes Tony would fuck him like this, instead of treating him like a little fragile treasure-

“ _Tesoro mio_ ,” Tony breathes, seemingly fascinated by the way Peter’s being brutally breached. Peter feels his lover’s hands in his hair again, and it’s all just… a lot. He buries his face into Tony’s lap and groans as Ned bottoms out.

Ned shortly begins setting up a pounding rhythm that has Peter wailing into Tony’s slightly damp boxer-briefs and yeah, he’s Spider-Man, he can take it, but _fuck._

It’s the words that do it.

“Look at you, rim all stretched around me, sucking me in. You really needed this, hmmm? Your sugar daddy hasn’t been doing enough to make you a mommy, has he?”

“No,” Peter pants, and feels Tony’s thigh tense up against his ear.

The older man pulls at Peter’s hair, muttering quietly, “Didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”

Ned keeps fucking him, bruisingly centered on his prostate, and it feels like punishment for talking to Tony.

“I didn’t know either,” Peter replies to no one. He’s content to ignore Tony for now. “Needed Ned to show me.”

“And what do we say?” Ned asks sweetly. He also chooses that moment to pause with the flared head of his cock just inside Peter. (Fucking bastard.)

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Peter rushes out, voice wet, and things resume.

“Speaking of gratitude,” Ned segues, slightly out of breath, “... thanks for training him up for me. He couldn't have taken me so well when we were younger, but it seems like you've been the perfect intermediate level for him, Stark."

“Hey, fuck you, friend,” Tony says without much heat.

Peter laughs a stuttering sort of laugh and enjoys the way Tony’s cock twitches against his chin as it happens. “Been there, done that.”

Tony swats him a bit up the side of his head, but Ned stops for a second to haul Peter bodily into his lap, taking him away from Tony’s reach. He then helps Peter start up a grinding sort of motion, hands guiding Peter’s slim hips. Peter wraps an arm backward around Ned’s neck, but watches Tony while he does so.

The stretch is a little more intense this way, but he feels a little more in control as well. Peter lets a bit of his strength and speed slip in, bouncing on Ned’s cock like his life depends on it. It has the added effect of making his own cock bounce against the trampoline of his taut stomach, and he tips his head back along Ned’s shoulder at how good it feels.

Peter nearly misses it, but Ned’s hissing something about Tony watching himself, and how he doesn’t get to slap Peter -- even playfully -- while Ned is fucking him.

“He’s possessive, you know, like you,” Peter guts out, trying to project his somewhat wrecked voice toward Tony’s general direction.

He has enough time to regret it, maybe. Peter can’t see Tony’s expression with the way he’s fixed his gaze on the blurring ceiling. His vision shudders a little with every thrust and Peter is _living_ for it.

Ned claws his tidy nails into Peter’s thigh, which he can barely feel right now with all the other sensations going on. He knows he’s supposed to be ignoring Tony, but he’s spent years being the center of Tony’s orbit; it’s not so easy, even with other, more _pressing_ matters to attend to.

Tony takes the mile that Peter’s inch has given him, because of course he does.

“Ah, I see. Imagine you, getting home from Leipzig, flush from fighting. Or no, too early? Hmmm. After he found out, gosh that was before the decathlon...” Tony trails off.

“Shut up,” Ned snarls, tipping Peter forward. He briefly mourns the loss of the excellent rhythm they’d gotten into with their fucking, but Peter’s not going to complain about a new angle, as Ned finally tosses Peter’s pants across the room and then urges him onto his back.

“So you didn’t let him fuck you, is that it? Saving that one for me? But you’re a scientist, aren’t you, baby? I guess you just _had_ to do a few stress-tests,” Tony reasons.

Peter hangs on to one outstretched ankle, bracing himself as Ned hitches Peter’s legs up and nearly covers Peter’s body with his own. It’s a lot, and it’s like Ned’s trying to block Tony out.

He loves them both so much, these two ridiculously stroppy tops of his.

Ned, of course, can’t let Tony have the last word, even as Peter tries to distract him with a kiss now that Ned is grinding into him face-to-face. "I always knew that you'd treat Peter well. You think I would've ever let him practically wrap himself up in a bow for you otherwise? If I thought you'd hurt him? You have Peter because I _let_ you."

Tony hums, sounding victorious at the way he's obviously struck a nerve, but Peter knows that note in Ned’s voice after years of friendship.

He continues, and Peter just hangs on. “And the thing is, what I give, I can take away.”

With that, Ned pushes a couple of fingers into Peter’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and really puts his back into giving Peter everything he’s got. His eyes say, _don’t fuckin’ talk to him anymore._

Peter lets go of Tony’s ankle.

He also lifts one of his own ankles to rest on Ned’s shoulder, enjoying the hamstring stretch in an absent sort of way, but mostly focusing on the way Ned’s gorgeous cock is practically _pushing_ the pre-come out of Peter. He feels wrung out, wound tight, pressurized.

Ned, for his part, seems similarly overcome. He’s no longer blustering or putting on a show, just growling against Peter’s collarbone about how _wet_ Peter is for him, and how he _knew_ it’d be like this, and how he’s gonna make sure he comes nice and deep so that he can put at least one baby in Peter, and holy shit-

Peter can’t really talk against the obstruction in his mouth, but he does his best to lever his hips up and fuck Ned right back, in a way that should feel affirmative. He is so, so on board.

From far away, Peter hears Tony make that adorable sound in his chest that means he’s not made of stone, either, but it hardly matters-

Ned lifts himself out of the cradle of Peter’s shoulder and pumps Peter’s cock for him a handful of times, telling him he looks so _pretty_ , and that Ned’ll still think so even once he’s big with the baby Ned's fucking into him-

Peter’s had enough. He comes, hard and with a shout.

(He also maybe blacks out a little; it’s been a long day.)

\---

When Peter comes to, he’s on his belly again, pulled to the edge of the bed, panting into the sheets. Also, Tony is biting and sucking at the fluttering rim of his hole.

There are worse ways to wake up.

This time, it’s Ned who’s petting at Peter’s hair and he’s also the first one to notice that Peter is back with them. “Have a nice nap?”

“What time is it?” Peter slurs by way of answering.

He can also feel it where Tony straightens a little and rests his chin on Peter’s lower spine. “You were only out for a few minutes, champ, nothing serious.”

Peter frowns, thinking that there was something he was supposed to be remembering about not talking to Tony. “Wasn’t asking you,” he says belatedly.

“Oh yes, you were. It’s my turn, now. Just gotta get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

Peter pushes himself minutely up the length of the bed, his watery muscles not really doing much for him. “Ned, help.”

“No, Ned, hold him down,” Tony grounds out, before he goes back to giving Peter what he can admit is a rather nice rimming.

Ned _does_ still ignore Tony, but he also shushes at Peter tenderly before planting a hand between Peter’s shoulder blades. There’s little force behind it, but Ned’s never needed strength to make Peter submit, anyway.

The whole ‘in-on-it’ act doesn’t stop Ned from talking shit, though.

“Look, Peter, you know how he is. He’s gotta shoot his shot. Does it matter that in three years of marriage, he hasn’t managed to knock you up yet? Apparently not.”

“S’gotta try,” Peter agrees blearily. His senses may be in overdrive, but his brain is on vacation.

Tony does the swirling-stabbing thing with his tongue that Peter has always gone wild for, but mostly Peter just hangs on to the sound of Ned’s voice and the pleasant heaviness in his limbs.

“Listen, my friend. I got you. I have to go back home and to work and this girl I’m seeing, but if it doesn’t take this time, I can come back. Or even if it does…”

Peter huffs a little laugh, reaching for Ned to give him the best approximation of a grateful pat he can manage while this blissed-out. “How many little, perfect half-Filipino babies do I need, huh?”

Tony pulls back from him to blow lightly on where Peter is twitching and empty and-

“How many empty rooms are in this penthouse?” Ned asks, before Tony can speak.

“You don’t wanna know. We’d have to keep him pregnant for the rest of the decade to make a dent.”

Ned nudges Peter up and finally, _finally_ gives him the kiss he deserves, and Peter melts into it as Tony sits back on the carpet of their bedroom. “Don’t worry about it, Peter. I mean, look. Do I think that the two of you -- for a pair of supposed geniuses -- have been shockingly cavalier about the actual possibility that spider DNA could have really made you into the breeding slut you’re pretending to be? Yeah, _I do_. But am I gonna complain about how fucking stupid-hot this is? No, no I am not.”

“Yeah, ‘cause _you’re_ not stupid…” Peter mumbles.

“Exactly.”

Tony claps his hands together like the drama queen he is, and then clambers onto the bed. He makes a show of pulling Peter back into his orbit until their faces are close. “Hey, pretty.”

“Hey.”

“Tired?” he asks Peter, in what passes for solicitousness.

Peter smooths Tony’s dark hair away from his forehead, before letting himself admit, “Yeah.”

Ned snorts behind him when Tony’s grin widens. “Too bad, princess.”

He paws at Peter’s hip to get him steady before settling his weight over Peter just the way Peter has always liked it. It presses Peter’s frame into their familiar, soft mattress. Peter licks his lips and says, soft, “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Tony returns his earlier gesture, moving damp baby hairs back from Peter’s face with his only free hand. “We can stop, but I’d like to keep going. We can stop, though. I promise. You know the word.”

“Yeah, I know the word.” Peter turns his head a little to catch the flash of Ned’s smile. “S’okay to need more, right?”

Ned nods immediately. “You can hardly help it, can you? I knew, even when we were kids, it was gonna be like this. Tony fuckin’ Stark, Peter. You high-class slut.”

Peter makes a little hurt sound that he doesn’t recognize from himself, but it’s from the smooth way Tony manages to enter him, even without adding more lube. It’s not from the words.

This time, things are quieter. At least, from Tony’s end. Peter tries to just feel, and they let Ned continue to take charge of how everyone is thinking.

He keeps them in line, and Peter knows it’s the cherry on top of Tony’s insecurities, being micromanaged like this. Peter’s over-sensitized, and not as young as he used to be, maybe; it takes him a couple of minutes of Tony’s well-worn but perfect rhythm to really get frantic again.

Ned does a lot of playing with Peter’s pecs and nipples, which is just fine. It’s even better when Ned starts whispering -- too low for Tony to hear -- about how pretty Peter is, how well-built.

Peter, for his part, flashes back to the first time Ned caught him changing out of the suit. May had nearly ruined everything but later they’d had time for Ned to tell him -- in no uncertain terms -- that he had been gifted with a beautiful pair of tits.

Peter had blushed, he remembers.

It’s no different now, and Ned knows it. In the same way that Ned hadn’t been able to fully block Tony’s presence from Peter’s mind earlier, now Tony can’t keep Ned out of their bubble, either, not that he’s trying very hard.

Instead, the dirty talk builds and builds along with Peter’s desire and Tony’s pace -- which becomes punishing after long minutes -- and Ned unlocks some boxes that have been closed in Peter’s mind for a long time.

For instance, Tony’s experienced fucking falters when Ned talks about how Peter had first had _so_ much trouble reigning in his senses, in the year after the bite. He talks about Peter coming in his pants in public at least twice a week, more if they were studying the creation of the arc reactor in physics or if Frau Karolina said something about Berlin in their German class.

Tony stops for a second to grip at Peter’s jaw and look him in the face, saying, “Oh, you never told Daddy  _that_ , baby boy.”

The older man leans back and massages at the muscles of Peter’s legs for a moment as Peter sputters, “I forgot, honestly!”

“It’s not like it was obvious to anyone but me, although I think Flash might have figured it out a few years later; I think he always had a little crush on you, to be honest.”

“Who, him or me?” Peter and Tony ask simultaneously, and Ned just smiles again.

“Yes,” he answers.

Tony, in particular, seems to find that funny, and he settles himself back over Peter with a goofy sort of smile that’s edging into a smirk. He helps Peter settle his legs higher, which Ned nods approvingly about.

“Hmmm, I’d say your husband’s doing an admirable job fighting for his right of primacy; he might _just_ be able to get one over on you, after all.”

“Hafta try harder than this, though,” Peter says lazily, ready to get back to it. He’s close again, in a hazy sort of way. It’s different, with him and Tony knowing each other so well. They can joke, and stop, and rest, and still drive each other wild in the end.

“Watch it, kid; I’m gonna untie your belly-button. From the inside,” Tony vows, and Peter cracks up.

All that means is that he loses his breath when Tony presses back into him, bending forward so Peter’s legs are straining and their foreheads are not touching, no, but not as far away as one might think.

“Kid, huh?” he repeats after a beat. “Not for a while.”

“Yeah, you are, Peter. Always gonna be my baby. Even if we have a whole litter, you’ll always be young and beautiful, even years and years from now.”

And, dammit. He’d wanted to cry from getting railed into the mattress, not from sweet compliments. “You’re a dick,” he says, with feeling.

“Take the compliment, sweetheart,” Tony returns, though his voice breaks with both mirth and exertion, and Ned laughs at them both. “And I may be a dick, but I’m the dick who loves you, so deal with it.”

“Love you too,” Peter manages, through the too-hot press of said dick to his poor, abused prostate. Ned soothes his hand down the cut of Peter’s hip bone, and when that doesn’t work, he presses his hand flat to Peter’s belly.

It changes the feel of everything just slightly, and Peter can’t help the sick little jolt he gets or the tiny ‘uh-uh-uh’ sounds that it rips out of his throat.

Tony is equally as effected. “Christ, I can _just_ feel your hand, Leeds,” he breathes, and loses a bit of his control to the overwhelmingly natural desire to jack-knife his way deeper into Peter’s body.

Peter takes it as well as he can, getting fucked roughly at the end of a wonderful, harrowing night, but he can’t stop himself from crying out and coming in stripes across Ned’s fingers where they’re still pressing into his abdomen. It brings more tears to his eyes.

After several more wild thrusts, Peter’s body finally succeeds in continuing the chain reaction, clamping down on Tony in waves and milking the older man as much as possible.

For a delirious second, Peter thinks he might actually get bred from this. He feels absolutely full, to the brim.

Tony is probably thinking the same thing, if the way he grasps at Peter’s leg and nuzzles into it as if it’s the only thing keeping him breathing is anything to go by.

It’s a good thing Ned is there, to lead the shipwreck of Tony away from Peter and his jagged, fucked-out rocks.

After some rearranging, the three of them sleep the sticky, messy sleep of people who no longer have any fucks left to give.

\---

In the morning, Tony fucks him again while Peter chokes around Ned, who scrolls through info on his phone while Peter is busy deep-throating his friend as much as he can.

They talk over his head (“ _zip it, the adults are talking_ ”), but Peter is content.

He hadn't thought he'd like being ignored -- not the way Tony enjoys it, viciously, like bending a bone once broken in childhood -- but he's a little bit into it. It's a lot like the times he's blown Tony in the lab and had to rub himself off against his husband's shoe because he wouldn't stop working. That had been pretty amazing.

And it's not that Peter's not affecting Ned with his sloppy, drooling blowjob, but rather that Ned has superior control, he figures. Peter picks up the little signs, though. His senses spark to the rhythm of Ned's throbbing veins tattooing his delicate throat and tongue.

He stops thinking about it when Tony finds just the right spot to set up camp, pressing deep inside Peter who is completely without recourse or room to retreat, spit-roasted between them.

“Come on, Stark. My flight leaves in a few hours, and if you don't paint him white inside the right way this time, I'm gonna have to fly back out here and give him what he needs again in a few months.”

Tony grunts and laughs a bit, and Peter feels how he bends forward to really punish Peter for Ned's goading. “Thought you were confident about last night, Leeds? Or is that why you're looking through adoption agency websites when you should be making poor Peter gag on you like he likes to?”

Ned threads his fingers through Peter's hair and holds him down against his own pubic bone. Peter tries to take deep, even breaths through his nose, but he's not sure why. Passing out would be super hot.

He doesn't wanna miss his men sniping at each other, though.

Ned holds him there and Peter hears him tap at his phone before, presumably, showing it to Tony, who pauses on a pulled-out half-thrust.

“I didn't know Filipino kids were so fucking cute, Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony says with a low whistle. “Okay, now I want one. Gotta have it. Maybe more than one.”

Peter groans because he knows that note in his husband's voice; it's the one that is so rarely denied. He'll have to call the adoption agency tomorrow.

I mean, Peter's also groaning at the way Tony's cock-head is pulling at his rim while the rest of his hole goes hungry, but that's neither here nor there.

Ned shocks all three of them by coming down Peter's vibrating throat, the low groan having pushed him over the edge, and then Tony slams back into him -- accidentally-on-purpose a bit too hard due to him laughing himself silly over Peter's arched back and Ned's wide-eyed surprise -- and yeah.

He hopes Ned comes back to visit, soon.

(“Hey what are friends for?” Ned says, as he massages something soothing into Peter's poor, abused flesh, taking his time after having changed his flight out to a red eye.)

They make plans to go see the new run of _Hamilton_ , next time.


End file.
